Dulling the Pain
by Blue Zombie
Summary: Ellie dealing with Ashley going on tour in Europe with Craig.
1. Chapter 1

She'd heard through the grapevine that Ashley was going on tour with Craig in Europe. Well, that was fine. Just fine. It didn't effect her. Not at all.

Maybe she hadn't been able to eat as well since she'd heard that, maybe she had no appetite. Maybe she was drinking more wine after dinner, and before. Maybe nothing was dulling the pain.

Marco understood. She could see it in his eyes, in the way he'd rest his hand on her shoulder. She'd lean her head on his hand, choke the tears back.

She didn't want it to be Ashley who was going she wanted it to be her. She still loved him. Impatiently she wiped the tears away. She couldn't follow him, she knew that. Just like she couldn't follow him when he first left for Vancouver. It wasn't where she should be. She should be in college and writing and that was what she was doing so why did it hurt so goddamn much?

It was unrequited love. That is exactly what it was and what hurts worse than that? She had loved him, felt the electricity when he was near, had memorized the shade of his eyes and the texture of his voice and he thought she was a pretty good friend.

The cocaine didn't really matter. It hadn't really changed the fact that he didn't think of her like that. He'd only recognized that she did and used it to his advantage. But that kiss, how she had believed him when he said he loved her, how she had lived in the moment of that kiss for eternity. But it was just lies to him.

So it had been Ashley all along. He loved her. That was something she was going to have to accept. But accepting and dealing with things and moving on had never been her strong suit. That had never been her strength. Holding on. Holding grudges. Cataloguing the hurts, each exquisite source of pain, that was more her speed.

Why did she think of him so much? It was stupid but she couldn't stop. She felt sick with it. She wanted to slash the razor lines into her arms again, just to feel a different pain for once.

"El? Ashley's here," Marco called to her one night, while she was knocking back her second or third glass of wine and looking at the sky. Ashley. Ashley didn't know about her feelings toward Craig, didn't know about what a fool she made of herself when he had been here last. She narrowed her eyes. In a way it was Ashley's fault. Grade 11, crying on her shoulder, saying she didn't know what to do about Craig, his moods and medications and watching, always watching. Ashley was the one who wanted him to go to her group. Ashley was the one who dumped him and left the pieces in her lap.

"Hi," Ellie said, finishing her wine, feeling slightly detached.

Ashley started talking about talking to Craig, going to Europe, their music. How they were connecting but on a different level, how she'd finally let the bi-polar thing go. Ellie nodded, pressed her lips together.

"That's great," she said, and saw the brightness of Ashley's eyes.

"Isn't it? I mean, it just wasn't right with Jimmy," she said, and Ellie looked down, thought about how everything always worked for Ashley. For some people things just worked out.

Marco was inside giving her that 'hang in there' look and she smiled at him.

"Want some wine?" she said, and Ashley nodded. Ellie poured them both a fresh glass. Thought of her going to Europe with Craig, across that ocean, beyond the horizon. Then they'd be gone, but they already were.

Beyond the horizon, into the void. Nothing she could do. Marco came out onto the porch and turned the conversation to other topics, so she wouldn't have to listen to Ashley talk about Craig anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

More wine. More sunsets on the porch as she slowly gets buzzed, and beyond buzzed. Her tears falling into the wine glass, how poetic was that?

She didn't want to give up Craig. She hadn't wanted to when he pleaded with her not to tell Joey, that he needed those drugs, _needed them._ But her pride told her what to do. Shove him away. Call him a bastard. She hadn't wanted to give him up at the airport, refusing his hugs, refusing his offer to see her again when he was out of rehab. Not even listening as he tried to say he meant what he said. Because he didn't mean it and she knew it. She knew what she was to him and what she wasn't. But all that knowledge didn't mean it wasn't hard.

She heard someone at the door but she knew Marco would get it. He always did. She drank her wine. There were so many comings and going around here that she didn't care anymore. She heard a quiet male voice and Marco's voice in return. Marco sounded kind of high pitched and excited, like whoever it was was someone he hadn't seen in a while.

"Is she here?" she heard the familiar voice say. It sounded like Craig, but she was very nearly drunk and delusional. Craig was on some tour halfway across Canada. Craig was going to Europe if he hadn't gone already. It wasn't Craig.

"Yeah, she's here. She's out on the porch," she heard Marco say. She swirled her wine in her glass, saw the reflections of trees and sky and her own face in the dark red liquid.

"Ellie," She looked up. It was Craig. She just stared at him. So tall, standing in the doorway, the light behind him casting him in shadow. He was wearing the long sleeved shirt under the short sleeved shirt, his new look. He looked generally the same as he had when she last saw him, just not so skinny. Not so manic. There was a calmness in his eyes that she could barely remember ever being there.

"Craig," she said, and he stepped out onto the porch, and she heard the wooden boards squeak beneath his weight. Marco didn't come with him, knowing it might be better if they were alone.

"What are you doing here?" she said, not knowing if she meant her house or Toronto or both. Neither.

"I had to pick some things up, things that I left at, uh, at Joey's…"

He stood in front of her and she looked up at him, and she could smell that smell she associated with him. That certain cologne. The detergent on his clothes. Something that was just him. It made her incredibly sad.

"And I wanted to see you before I left," he said.

"To Europe?" she said fast, like an accusation. To Europe with Ashley. She finished off her glass of wine.

"I know when we were at the airport, that you said you didn't want to see me…"

She thought back. Had she said she didn't want to see him? She'd said goodbye in the most final way she'd ever said it to anybody. She had planned on never seeing him again because that was what she had to do. That's what he'd left her with. She remembered that kiss backstage, how she had been so happy in that moment. She shook her head. Why couldn't that have been real?

She didn't answer that, because whether she had said that or not it was the truth. She had to be done with him. He had caused too much pain. They'd never want the same things. And she remembered him following her into the kitchen at the wedding gig, taking her hands, telling her she was his really really good friend. How that had made her feel hot and cold, blinking stupidly, standing there in a dress she'd put on to impress him. She didn't do that. She didn't dress to make people act differently, to see different things. He had kept changing her and even then she hadn't liked it.


	3. Chapter 3

She looked at him, standing in front of her with his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels.

"I thought Joey moved?" she said, looking at her empty wine glass, wanting more. She knew Joey had moved, knew Craig had gone to rehab in Calgary because that's where Joey was.

"Yeah, no, he did move. But he just left some stuff, well, some of my stuff, in his old garage,"

"Do you want to sit down," she said, gesturing to the empty wooden chair with the faded old cushion, just like the one she was sitting in. He nodded and sat, and she stood up to refill her wine glass.

"I'm having more wine. Want some?" she said, never knowing Craig to drink all that much. But she didn't really know him anymore.

"Yeah, sure," he said, and his voice, that slight scratchiness to it, it gave her chills.

Inside she filled her glass and got one for him, maneuvering around Marco. She watched the blood red wine spill into the glasses.

"El, you okay?" Marco said, touching her shoulder and she jumped.

"No. I don't think so. Doesn't he get it at all? Marco, me and Craig aren't friends, we aren't anything. He's seeing Ashley, for God's sake. What does he want from me?"

Marco shrugged, looked almost as puzzled as she was. There was nothing for it but to just go back out there and deal with him. There was nothing more to rant about, to plead about.

Outside, the sun nearly set, just an orange line on the horizon. She handed him the wine and balanced her own as she sat down. She sipped it, watched him take a sip of his. Watched as the wine stained his lips, watched the way the last of the light reflected off his eyes and face. She was still noticing all the little details about him. She bit her lip. She wanted to throw her glass to the floor, watch it shatter, grab him and shake him and demand to know what he was doing here. When she shoved him backstage and called him a bastard she had to admit that it felt good, for that second, it felt good.

She looked at him, his eyes, the shape of his nose. She still wanted to own him. It hadn't gone away, none of her feelings had left and time had not diminished them. And she didn't want to sit here and make small talk. What good would that do?

"Why are you here?" she said, and she couldn't help it that it sounded mean. She felt mean. Maybe she couldn't blame him for only liking her as a friend, for choosing Ashley time and time again, for using her. But something inside of her did blame him. It was all his fault.

"I wanted to see you before I left, I wanted to see if we could, uh…"

He didn't finish it and she stared at him through the gathering darkness, through her increasing drunkenness. She could finish it for him. 'If we could be friends again,' was probably where he was headed with this. She shook her head, feeling the tears start to blur her vision. Why didn't he just get it? She loved him. Loved him. Not like some stupid crush but for real, and he'd just ignored that, or disregarded it.

"Craig, what? If we could be friends? If it's that important to you then fine, we can be friends. I know you're going to Europe with Ashley and that's fine. I'm still hurt about the whole thing with the cocaine and you lying to me but maybe it's just me, I'm holding onto it. Is that your fault? Maybe. But maybe it's me. I hope everything goes great for you. That you're successful with your music and anything else you want to do. Of course I hope you find a life you can be comfortable in, all of that. But still, I don't get it. Why'd you have to go out of your way to come here now?"

Drunk. A drunken speech. She cursed herself in her head, wishing she'd been able to play it cool. Aloof. But those were ways of behaving that seemed to just fly out the window when he was around. She watched him watch her with the widened eyes and still she wanted him, wanted to kiss him and wanted to have him and she knew that that boat had sailed. That that boat had never existed. Not for her, anyhow. Not for her.


End file.
